


Mistaken Identity

by UnorthadoxScribe



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1797, Dancing, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Historically Accurate, It helps, Love, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Music, Please listen to the music, Set in the Georgian Era, aziraphale - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, tempting, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnorthadoxScribe/pseuds/UnorthadoxScribe
Summary: The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please listen to the music while or before you read this chapter
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPp3Qh-GRqs

ENGLAND 1797  
Candlelight flickered over segments of intricate and boundless tiling, almost making it twinkle beneath the frilled edges of gowns and waltzing heeled shoes, lavishly gilded marble pillars adorned with various flowers joined the flooring to gilded balconies and up again to a florally carved and a gloriously painted plaster ceiling that supported the vast weight of what could well have been solid gold chandeliers that gleamed dully next to the candles that burnt in their arms amongst an abundance of crystal and diamond. Portraits of members of the English aristocracy adorned the walls and appeared with colorful landscapes and shining bright frames of bowls of fruits; apples, grapes, and bananas. A light summer breeze blew in through open windows which divulged any passers-by of the grandeur that the ballroom's event held. 

Indeed. That night, at its very core, would be defined by the words grandeur and affluent. 

George William Frederick, otherwise known as Mad King George in this modern day and had thrown a masquerade ball after marriage in the family and recovery a long bout of illness (although, his absence at the ball had arisen suspicions of deceit). 

"I just absolutely knew that I'd see you here."   
"Oh, 'course. Wouldn't miss something like this." He looked at is companion briefly.

Two men stood by a pillar. One clad in deep wine knickerbockers, white high socks and a matching wine tailcoat with shiny new obsidian buttons the colour of crows down; had his hair in neat copper rolls fastened just above his ears and a low ponytail fastened with a black ribbon hung over the back of his collar. Over his face, he wore a finely crafted mask of mahogany red. Gold rimmed the dramatically flicked eye holes that were shaded with black glass so that his eyes weren't visible. Two golden snakes seemed to search curiously for his eyes at the sides of the mask that was tied neatly with a black lace bow. The other was dressed quite similarly, except his knickerbockers were a nice magnolia that matched his hair and he wore a waistcoat of sky blue. He wore his hair naturally short and took pride in the sheen of his polished and buckled shoes in the candlelight. His mask was made of white porcelain rimmed with thick silver swirls and ornate curves. Blue gems nestled themselves amongst the curls and caught the light in a way that looked almost like a halo at the top of his mask. It wasn't quite clear how he kept such a mask from falling off of his face without a fastening, but he was doing it. 

Aziraphale took a small sip from his glass (he was drinking honey spirits) and smiled at his surroundings and the people. Maybe even at nothing in particular. He was just happy to be in the presence of fine people, fine food and Crowley. His eyes creased at the sides and his cheeks glowed. It had been the first time since Paris 1793 that the pair had seen each other.   
"It's really rather lovely, isn't it? All these people here, together. Having a wonderful time." The music swelled   
"Yesss, well," Crowley mused. "with all that going on out in France, they all need it." The corners of his mouth turned down, but he wasn't frowning, or upset. It was just a Crowley thing. 

The pair of them spotted a young woman bashfully approaching Crowley from across the other side of the room amidst the flurry of dress fabric and petticoats. She was wearing a swan mask, made of the same porcelain is Aziraphale's. She had a pretty face, her deep blue eyes peered out of her mask with shy curiosity and her dark hair was the nest for a large swan feather.  
"Excuse me for being so bold, Count Crowley, but if you aren't occupied at the moment, I was wondering if you would like to dance?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale ever so slightly. "With...me." She clarified although both men (well, men shaped ethereal and occult beings) knew what she meant. Crowley accepted the invitation. It wouldn't do any harm to do some tempting tonight.   
"I suppose I'll see you later then, eh?" He shot a small smirk at Aziraphale before disappearing into the sea of expensive fabrics leaving Aziraphale alone with his drink. 

The angel watched with content at the couples that swirled and waltzed and box stepped. It wasn't long before he himself was asked to dance by a young woman. He smiled, asked a butler to kindly hold his drink, adjusted his waistcoat and set off to dance under the twinkling candles. 

The night was still young.


	2. Chapter 2

If you'd wondered how big the ballroom was, it could hold an entire 60 person Classical orchestra. You might not think that's a lot. But consider the musical instruments and then also consider how many hundreds of people would appear at the ball; Dukes, Duchesses, Barons and Baroness, Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, foreign diplomats and attachés, counts and contessas. Then a whole armory of staff plus the dresses and clothes they were all wearing. So it was no surprise to Aziraphale when he had lost Crowley for nearly three and a half hours. In his tipsy-nearly-drunk state, he had thought that he'd seen Crowley at least four times but it was just a mask that looked similar to his. 

It was nearly ten o'clock when Aziraphale had spotted Crowley by the open doors of a balcony absent of the Swan lady he had danced with earlier. He was leaned up against a doorframe idly and looked out downwards out into the sconce-lit courtyard. Crowley had found out that the name of this woman was Frederica (but he hadn't found out that he had bedded crown Princess Frederica Charlotte of Prussia - daughter in law to the king) and hat she was rather good in the bedroom. His hair was ever so slightly out of place but this wasn't extremely noticeable unless one had paid scrupulous attention to his hair before and after he'd vanished into a guest room. The demon was enjoying the cool summer night breeze (not that he actually needed it) and was also, rather squiffy. 

"Having a rather good time, aren't we?" Said Aziraphale with light amusement.  
"Mmh." The demon hummed, not looking at him. Probably just too drunk to speak.  
"She'll confess you realize?" It wasn't a question but more or a statement. It still came out with a wistful, dreamlike tone. "We'll get her back on our side-"  
"You're gorgeous, y'know that?" The demon cut him off. Aziraphale blushed deeply. "And - And - And - I would like to, to very much dance. With you. Now." Crowley, still not paying mind to Aziraphale, took his hand awkwardly and stumbled out into the center of the room. It all happened so quickly. Aziraphale's head spun from the sudden and unwarned movement - like when you stand up too fast and become dizzy and when he came to his senses, he found himself being thrown into an underarm spin by Crowley. He winced slightly as he drew the alcohol out of his system and sobered himself. The angel's heart raced. He suddenly became very aware of the situation: Crowley's slender fingers firmly grasping his waist, his smooth palm resting against his, both their chests pressing together and the feel of other women's dresses brushing against his legs and ankles as well as his own coat tails on the backs of his calves and knees. His heart fluttered and his face and ears glowed a brilliant bright red.  
"Crowley-"  
"I've been admiring you all night, you know."  
"Well, Crowley, I must admit that I-"  
"You're- you're angelic. Positively glowing in brilli- in brilli- you're beautiful." The demon slurred.  
"Oh well, thank you, my dear-"  
"And-" Crowley spun Aziraphale again. He was quite a skilled dancer even if he was drunk. He placed his hand firmly on the angel's hip once more and rested his chin on top of his head as they both fell back into a simple box step.  
"I'm quite sure that you want what I'm after," His voice came out low, sensual. Almost a purr that would weaken anybody's knees. Aziraphale nearly melted.  
"O-Oh, Crowley, I feel the exact same way I've just been rather too shy to admit! I thought it would be far too forward of me."  
"- Frederica." Frederica. Bloody Frederica.The angel's heart sank down to the depths of hell and he could now feel his face heating up for another reason. This was now humiliation. His face fell, he tensed every muscle in his body. It was clear now that the demon had confused Aziraphale with the swan woman. After all, they did have similar masks. He hadn't even been listening or looking at him. He was far too drunk to even realize that she was not him. Tears stung his eyes. He wished, after nearly 6000 years of being on Earth, that he had never been sent down to this infernal planet! .  
"Crowley." The demon continued muttering things. Aziraphale ripped his hand out of Crowley's and threw his hand from his waist. He ran as fast as his legs could carry towards an open balcony before anybody else could catch on to what had just happened. The humiliation! Oh good heavens how could he have ever believed for one second that Crowley had meant those words for him?! Of course, he didn't! Couldn't! Wouldn't. A hard lump formed in his throat and he felt his lip quiver. He collapsed behind the door and bought his hands up to his forehead, staring down at the paving stones. He had let himself be tempted by the very force he was meant to have thwarted. How dare he! 

Crowley stood in a daze in the middle of the ballroom. Then he realized the full weight of what had just happened as he miracle himself sober. A handful of couples stared at him in disgust - or maybe it was annoyance that he'd upset the mood of the party. His insides churned and twisted in a way he was quite shouldn't have worked in this human body. He felt like a true demon for the first time in years.  
"Aziraphale. Aziraphale!" 

Aziraphale leaned his head against the stone of the balcony railing. His head was thrumming. He could quite clearly hear the calls of his name getting nearer and nearer to him. The angel slammed the balcony door with such ferocity that the pigeons on the roof scattered scared into the night and the glass pains almost shattered. The last thing he wanted was to face Crowley and cause any more humiliation on his own part - thank you very much!  
"Oh! Oh!" His face scrunched up in almost pain. "OH! Will you please just fuck right off!"


	3. Chapter 3

If Crowley had ever felt like a downright bloody bastard, it was then. He spun around, mouth agape, lost in the waves of people that surrounded him. He tried to follow after Aziraphale but whichever way he turned, someone would block his path.  
"Aziraphale! Aziraphale wait!" He tried desperately to call out over the music, but his voice drowned alongside all of the others in the room. "For Go- For Hea- Please!" The demon felt strangled. He knew he had royally fucked up. The woman didn't mean a thing to him and his silly angel should know by now that it was all apart of his job! Crowley took a deep inhale in through his nose and began to barge, elbow and push everyone out of his path.   
"Aziraphale! Where are you?! Aziraphale!" To his right-hand side, a balcony door crashed shut and the curtains infront swelled themselves in a rather dramatic fashion. 

Aziraphale tried to regain composure. He was an angel for heaven's sake! He ripped off his porcelain mask and was about to throw it with all his rage but all of a sudden, the door next to him almost shattered open, causing him to flinch and look up. Before he had any time to respond, though, a pair of lips met his in a rushed manner. The angel almost let himself fall into it, before he recoiled.   
"What in Heaven's name do you think you are doing?!" He cried, outraged, humiliated. He went to slap Crowley right in the face but the demon caught his wrist.   
"Angel, please. Let me explain!" He begged.   
"There's nothing to explain, Crowley. You thought I was her. A case of mistaken identity." The angel tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat, avoiding the empty black eyeholes of Crowley's mask. "I didn't mean a thing of what I said." He added, hastily, spitefully, to protect his own dignity, he reasoned. "Not a word. Not one syllable!" The demon let go of Aziraphale's wrist gently and let it fall back to his side and moistened his lips. He was at a loss for words. He looked around at nobody in particular and threw his own arms up in the air, eyebrows gathering together.   
"For fuck sake, Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted, making him step back slightly. Not out of fear. The angel himself didn't quite know why either. Maybe it was a deep down subconcious movement to back himself out of such an awful and awkward situation. "For fucking hell's sake!" His counterpart was now nearly having his own personal tantrum, which threw Aziraphale slightly. Crowley turned back to him, two soft glimmering trails fell from behind his mask and down onto his cheeks, then past his mouth and finally disappeared down the frilly collar of his shirt. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley cry before; he realized that he himself may be overreacting and softened.   
"My dear boy," He frowned, now forgetting his earlier frustration at the demon and took a guarded step forward. "Are you quite alright?" He reached out gingerly to Crowley and placed a hand on his elbow.   
"Can I kiss you? I promise - I'm not drunk. At all."   
"Crowley!" Aziraphale blushed slightly and failed at hiding the visible mix of shock (and almost delight) on his face. "Why ever would you want to do that?"  
"Because Angel. I just want to see something." Crowley removed his own mask, finally revealing his wide amber eyes. A soft summer breeze blew across the balcony as if nature herself had come to join and view the same curiosities.   
"Well, I suppose...As long as you aren't trying to tempt me!" Aziraphale warned with a pointed finger. Crowley shook his head and crooked a smile. He made an upside-down crucifix with his fingers and held it over his chest.   
"Cross my heart." The angel contemplated for a moment before nodding again.   
"Alright then." He took a deep inhale and closed the gap, heart thrumming wildly in his chest. Crowley did the same and gently bought a hand up to cup Aziraphale's face. Both of the men closed their eyes, both ever so slightly nervous. This wasn't like before when Crowley had kissed him in a panic. This was different. It was meaningful, he told himself. Their lips met, gently. Aziraphale's lip felt full and soft and tasted of honey from the spirits he had been drinking. The angel felt fit to faint. He had gone all giddy and pulled away, with an adorable, flushed face.   
"Oh, Crowley." He smiled, eyes shining.   
"I really am sorry, angel. Wine, y'know-" The demon tried to offer before the angel shushed him.   
"Crowley my dear, it's perfectly alright. It is your job after all. Being evil and such other. It's why I'm here. To thwart you!" Aziraphale bounced quite thematically on the balls of his feet when he said thwart, like a pantomime hero. Crowley visibly relaxed.   
"Well, Mister-I'm-here-to-thwart you!," He imitated Aziraphale voice. "How about another dance?"   
"So that I can thwart you in that too?" The angel's eyes gleamed and a cheeky smile pulled at his lips.   
"Oh! Oh of COURSE!" Crowley returned the smile and took Aziraphale's hand. "Your side would love it, I bet."  
"They wouldn't be happier, my dear boy." Aziraphale looked down to the floor before letting Crowley lead him back inside the ballroom. 

Besides. It would be terribly hypocritical if Aziraphale had been angered at Crowley tempting women and men. He had tempted Crowley first.


End file.
